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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810630">Everything Changes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneequuis/pseuds/nocturneequuis'>nocturneequuis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, future!fic, gen - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:36:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneequuis/pseuds/nocturneequuis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changes, Alec knows. In one way or the other, nothing ever stays the same. But there are some things that you can depend on, like the steadiness of a small town or the presence of a friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everything Changes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Hearts resolved and hands prepared.</em> </p><p>Alec squinted at the words that hung in elegant script in the tented booth. What did that even mean? He hated it, of course. He always did. The kitschy things in life always left a bad taste in his mouth. It was a way of trying to say something meaningful without actually saying anything. A shortcut for sentimentality. Fairy floss in the rain. He wished it would rain now that he thought of it. The sky was a thick ominous gray looking at any moment like it would let loose. It wouldn’t, of course, knowing his luck.</p><p>“Are you going to buy that?” Ellie said. “It would look good in your office.” She was teasing him and he refused to rise to the bait.</p><p>“No.” He thrust his hands in his pockets.  He didn’t even want to think about the word office. It was his now and mostly consisted of filing reports until his eyes blurred. He knew that it was important work. He knew that cataloging and proper storage of this and that was part of the life blood of the police force, but God, was it boring. God, did he feel useless. Some part of him would have liked to have died in the field because at least he wouldn’t have to continue the weary slog into old age and senility.</p><p>“Can we go now?” Alec asked, knowing the answer.</p><p>“Please, we’ve been here ten minutes—”</p><p>“Half an hour.”</p><p>“No, we’ve got at least a few more booths I want to see, and anyway you promised.”</p><p>“I’m beginning to regret that.” Not that he had much of a choice. He’d owed her anyway and this was the consequence of that debt. Still if he never heard the words ‘Fun Fete’ again in his life it would be too soon. That was all everyone had been talking about lately. It had been on posters all over town with the dog in sunglasses mascot. ‘Come enjoy the Dog Days of Summer!’ it had said. He hated it for the pun alone but hated it even more that everyone asked if he was going or assumed he wouldn’t be. Why couldn’t people leave him alone?</p><p>“It’s not so bad,” Ellie said as if she’d read his mind. “The weather’s nice, lots of food. I think I saw someone selling sopapilla nearby. Have you ever had that? It’s amazing. Mexican I think.”</p><p>“I don’t know where you put all that food,” he replied in lieu of an answer. Because she was always eating something or the other . Good food or terrible, it didn’t seem to matter much to her figure. Not that she was thin or anything, there was a definite heft to her frame, but she seemed to maintain a steady sort of…fluff. Not that he paid attention generally speaking because that would be inappropriate, but given how much she put away in a day, you would think she would have gained more.</p><p>“I’m a growing girl,” she said, a woman nearing forty-seven. Then nudged him and added: “Well, I didn’t want to tell you, but I’m pregnant.”</p><p>“What? Again?”  He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but she’d surprised him. He hadn’t thought she’d go in for that sort of thing what with Tom going to University next year and Freddie right in the middle of childhood. She had a lot on her plate, as always. Ellie squinted at him, mouth screwed to one side. .</p><p>“I’m not put out to pasture yet, you know. Though I didn’t want it to happen either, oh,  look, they’re grilling something over there, come on.” She went and he followed her feeling like a loyal dog. “I thought I was out there with the others, mooing along. In the pasture I mean. That’s horribly sexist, isn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose. “Point is, apparently it’s not too late. I’m three months along. Funny how that works.”</p><p>“And how does Peter feel?” They had started dating last year. Peter Haddensfield, from two hours east of here and another coastal village much like Broadchurch. His hadn’t seen heart rending murder and the only violent death was when a drink driver wrapped her car around a light post. Given that she’d been young and an out of towner herself, she’d been chalked up to a statistic. Alec always had to try hard not to imagine Daisy. She was getting into drink too though she tried to hide, or so Tess said. They’d made up and she was gone back to her Mum where, he supposed, she was happiest.</p><p>“Elated, I suppose, it’s hard to tell for real,” Ellie said. Alec wondered what the hell she was on about and then remembered the trail of conversation. Oh, right, Haddensfield. He seemed alright for what he was and as a couple they seemed happy together though Alec didn’t exactly experience them together often as he’d rather fling himself bodily from the pier than be a third wheel.</p><p>“When I told him he said: ‘Suppose we should get married’.”</p><p>“Oh…” He was sure that had gone over like a lead balloon.</p><p>“You’re too right, ‘Oh’.  I really had a go at him. Good thing both the kids were out of the house… I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not and it seems like a reasonable assumption—”</p><p>“Very small town conservative,” said Alec. They had arrived at the booth now and he absently scowled at the fish being flipped on the grill by a cheerful man who had done this for seventeen years, or so he claimed. Alec had no idea who he was.</p><p>“I am small town — well not conservative, but you know that’s the way it’s supposed to go, isn’t it? Marriage is just what happens. But just the way he said it-- Ohh.  I’ll have a special please, thanks Jim.” This to the man at the grill. “Want any, Hardy?”</p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>“’Course not. Don’t know why I ask anymore.” </p><p>“Oh so you’re the famous Hardy,” said the fishman. “I’ve heard about you.”</p><p>“I’m going to get a seat.” Since there was no escaping the bloody fete at least he could escape the bloody conversation he wanted no part in. He turned and trod to where some foldable tables had been set up with plastic chairs. He sat himself in one and fiddled with his phone as he waited for Ellie. He wanted to text Daisy. Well, he wanted to call her really but he knew he annoyed her. He knew texting annoyed her as well. She was too old to be getting calls from Mum and Dad, though Alec had the sinking suspicion she would welcome a call from Tess. But then, Tess had always understood  and had the patience to… get on with people. She was married now too, with a step-daughter folded into the family.  Heather, her name was, and Daisy talked about her sometimes— or at least used her as an excuse to get off the phone.</p><p>“Any news?” Ellie’s voice was a warning and he had just enough time to put the phone away before she came  to sneak a glance at it. Maybe she wouldn’t have, maybe she couldn’t given she was trying to balance a large paper plate of grilled fish and chips in one hand and a monster of a styrofoam cup in the other.</p><p>“Nah. Nothing important.”</p><p>“She’ll get over it, you know, Daisy will,” said Ellie. “I know I couldn’t stand my mum being around me more than five minutes at a time when I was her age and now— well, granted I won’t be able to stand her again when this comes to light.” She sighed. “But Dads are different, I think.”</p><p>“I’m not worried about it.” And he wasn’t exactly. He’d rather not think about it at all. It was easier to miss than hope. “So are you and Peter still fighting?” Domestics were tedious at best but he knew if her badger like mind was on that, the less she would spend digging in his own.</p><p>“Can’t fight if you’re not speaking.” She jabbed the plastic straw through the hole in the lid, probably harder than she needed to, but getting out her aggression was healthy, he thought. At least it was better than bottling it up and pretending everything was alright.</p><p>“I expect we will be alright.” She sighed and took a sip of whatever she was drinking before attacking the fish with a plastic fork. “It’s only fair, after all.”</p><p>“It isn’t fair at all.” He knew what she really meant, or thought he knew, obliquely anyway. Her children were already deprived of a father so why should this child be?</p><p>“It’s only just then,” she said, voice hard. Then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to make a single decision in my life without— that hanging over me.”</p><p>It would always be hanging over her though, he knew, and anyone who had been in this town back then. It would be there, this lingering sense of sadness, unfairness, anger, guilt.  This whole town was haunted now, because of what had happened. So many had moved out and moved on. The unshaking day to day of it when he’d first come had shaken up, not all at once, but gradually. What was broken could never really be made whole again, and even if he had hated the happy village atmosphere, he found he regretted the loss of innocence. And Ellie, though stronger now than she had been as an officer, he almost wished she hadn’t had to be.</p><p>At least, though, to the newcomers and the children born and the children that had been too young to know what was happening, it would just be history. A thing that happened once. A tragedy. Maybe something to have a Day of Remembrance of, at least until everyone forgot- and as bleak as it was, he wondered if people on the whole had to forget in order to keep moving forward.</p><p>“Least you’ll have an excuse to eat now,” Alec said, trying to cheer her up. “Not that it’s ever stopped you before.”</p><p>“It’s called having an appetite.” She stabbed the plastic fork ineffectually in his direction. “You’re like a plant, I swear. Only sunshine and water for you. One day you’re going to start photosynthesizing.”</p><p>“In this weather? I’d be lucky to get any sunshine at all.”</p><p>As a joke it fell flat and he hated it the moment he said it. Ellie snorted and a smile quirked the corner of her mouth so he felt it was good enough.</p><p>“Anyway, whatever happens…” She continued to stab at her fish. “I’m glad you’re here.”</p><p>He felt a bit stunned by that. She could have smacked him in the face by that fish and he would have been less surprised.</p><p>“You are?”</p><p>“Yeah.” A more genuine smile this time. “Sour old man that you are.”</p><p>“Oi.”</p><p>“It’s good to know that I have someone to rely on even when everything is changing.”</p><p>Rely on for what? He wondered. Then decided he would be better off without knowing. Either way it felt… good. It had been a while since he felt reliable in anything worthwhile and even if that just came in the form of — existing, at least it was actively helping someone.</p><p>“Yeah well, hurry up and eat already will you? I want to get out of here before the joining hands round the bonfire and singing starts.” Though he only said it to annoy her.</p><p>“I’ll eat as slow as I like.” Her eyes twinkled. “I bet you have a good tenor. I’d like to hear it.”</p><p>“Keep dreaming.”</p><p>“Maybe next year,” she said. “If you’re still here.” She said it casually but he felt as if there was an unspoken question there.</p><p>“Not next year or any year.” It was vague enough answer but he supposed she understood because she just gave him a mischievous look and began to eat her fish as slow as possible. He glowered at her until she laughed and had to cover her mouth with a napkin which served her right. He looked out then, onto the fete, the sullen sky, the people of Broadchurch and the surrounding area, those hurting, those blessedly ignorant, the ones who weren’t there and Alec knew this town well enough to know those absences were felt in one way or another like a missing tooth or a missed step. Still despite grief and losses and anger and ghosts, the town went on going, just as solid and reliable as it had been the day before. He would never be part of it. He refused. But it was a — good feeling to sit on the fringes and watch as life resumed in the same old way, changing and unchanging all at once.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why another Broadchurch fic? Who knows! It came and so it was written. I might do more of this particular future and see what happens and if I do it'll end up here, but I have no particular plan in mind. Sort of a stay tuned. </p><p>Anyway, thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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